Riding With Private Malone
by KayValo87
Summary: Salvaging used parts for the Impala does not always turn out well, especially when they come with their own ghost. And though the spirit does not seem to want to hurt them, there is one thing he does want ... to stay.


First of all I would like to apologize for my absence. Despite appearances, I have been unable to write well since a family crisis struck two months ago. (I am still recovering emotionally and it makes it very hard to do much of anything.) A have been doing the same thing with a few other stories, including Breaking Point, but the was the only one I actually finished.)

In order to get myself back in the swing of things I am starting two short stories (maybe three) to honor Veteran's Day. since I am not quiet 100%, please understand that this is not my best work. The opening chapter is a bit rushed, but the rest of the story should maintain a good pace. In any case, I hope you enjoy it.

As I said, this is a story for Veteran's Day and dedicated to all the men and women who serve, or have served, our country.

It's also based on a song I know, which inspired the story but acts as a kind of prequel. (It has the same name as this story.)

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing that was published originally by someone else.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

The Winchester luck was a funny thing. Yesterday Dean was hooking up with one of the hottest waitresses west of the Mississippi, Sam was happily researching the simple hunt he had found, and the Impala was running great. Today, however, that same 'simple hunt' had nearly dislocated Dean's shoulder, gave Sam a mild concussion, and damaged the Impala's engine. Then, just in case fate hadn't done enough already, they found out that the car battery was dead. So, now they were back at Bobby's, with Sam inside resting and Dean checking out the junkers for any decent parts. Yes sir, Winchester luck sucked.

"Wow," Dean exclaimed, coming upon the mangled form of a '66 Corvette. "Like like I'm not the only one having a crappy day."

"You don't know the half of it," Bobby muttered, joining him at the side of the wreck. "This guy bought this car, nearly mint condition, for a thousand bucks, gets it running in a week, drives it for a month, and wraps it around a tree."

Dean shook his head, feeling a great deal of pity for the idiot who managed to gain and loose a classic car in such a short time. Not much chance of it seeing the open road again. It was almost enough to make a grown man cry.

"But, hey, the battery was brand new before the wreck," Bobby commented. "Should still work it you want to take it."

H%^$ yeah! Dean was prying open the warped hood before his friend had even finished talking. Even destroyed, he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of of the once awesome engine. Despite the damage, there were actually a few parts worth salvaging. Soon the necessary parts were transferred form the Corvette and few other donor cars. Once Dean's baby was purring happily, they were back in business.

"Ready to go, Sammy?" Dean asked, pulling on his coat.

The only response he got was his little brother rolling over on the couch and burying his head under a pillow. Looks like that was a no. Too bad for him, Dean was more then ready. Bobby had heard about possible Wendigo a couple hours away and the older sibling was itching for a new hunt … or at least one that didn't get so close to his car.

"Come on, Sam," he tried again, yanking on the young man's foot. "We're loosing daylight."

"It's seven o'clock at night, Dean," come the muffled reply. "We've pretty much lost the daylight."

"Only if we wait another hour. Let's go!"

With an exaggerated sigh, he stumbled off the couch and stretched before gathering his things. But just as he turned to follow him out of the room, Sam paused.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Where is your necklace?"

The question seemed to stop time. He had been so busy working on his car he hadn't even notice the loss of weight from around his neck, the familiar swing of the amulet on the string. How long had it been gone? When did it come off? He had to find it.

"Well, it wasn't in or around Bobby's work shop."

"Then it has to be in here," Dean grunted, searching the crapped floorspace of the Corvette.

He had already check the other cars he salvaged, as well as the Impala, and if it wasn't here … well, there wasn't really any other place to look. Just when he was about to give up, the glint of brass caught his eye.

"Yes!"

He reached moved to get it, bumping his back into the glove compartment, which decided to open and cover him with old maps and yellowed papers. Winchester luck struck again.

"Hey, check these out," Sam started, gathering the papers. "These road-maps have got to be from the fifties and sixties."

"Mazel tov," Dean muttered, climbing out the wreck.

He looked over the necklace, relived to see that fixing it was a simple matter of retying the knot. Minutes later, he was back behind the wheel and the world was right once again. The Impala was running great, Sam was doing his geek thing in the passenger seat, life was good.

"Hey, there's a letter here," Sam commented, pausing to read it. "Huh."

"What?"

"According to this, the Corvette belong to a solider in Vietnam. Sounds like he didn't make it back."

"That's too bad. Do you remember what exit I have to take?"

"Yeah, 103 … huh."

"What now?"

"Well, it says that- WHOA!"

Dean nearly ran off the road and Sam whipped around in his seat. Once he had the car, and his breathing under control, he turned to see what had spooked his brother.

"What was **that**!"

"I think I just saw Andrew Malone."

"Who?"

"The guy who from the Corvette."

"The one who died in Vietnam?"

Sam nodded, reaching into the back seat and pulling out an EMF reader. Crap. The thing was lit up like a Christmas tree. Looks like Winchester luck had struck again. Crap.

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><p>So, what do you think? Like it? Hate it?<p>

Let me know and I PROMISE I will finish this story before Thanksgiving ... or at the very latest Christmas.

(BTW, I am almost finished with the final chapter of Breaking Point.)


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